The Heroic Misadvetures of Shinra Execs
by Icca
Summary: T for a curse word or so. Heroic Palmer sets out on a quest to right the wrongs of the Shinra kitchen's inventory! It doesn't go so well and the rest of the execs have to step in to help.
1. Palmer's Quest

The Heroic Misadventures of the Shinra Executive Board Members

Chapter One: Palmer's Quest

Herbert Palmer found himself staring blankly at the serving woman in the 34th floor Shinra cafeteria. "Wh-what do you mean there's no more lard?" The man swayed back and forth in dismay, unable to believe that this could be true. When the woman only stared blankly at him and repeated that the kitchens were indeed out of extra lard, Palmer nearly wailed in frustration. "How am I supposed to eat my sandwich without a coat of lard?" he whined, holding his head as he rocked back and forth at an increased speed.

The server, of course, had no answer for him.

Disgusted, the head of the space development and research department shoved his tray of food down the counter, storming off and full of seething anger. How could a place as affluent as Shinra Headquarters fail to keep themselves stocked with the most essential of all food products? It was enough to make him lose the last of his hair.

* * *

The president unsurprisingly seemed completely non-plussed when Palmer stormed into his office, wheezing from the effort of walking up that whole flight of stairs leading into the president's penthouse office, leaned heavily against Mr. Shinra's desk, and informed him of the grave situation of the company larders. In fact, the president almost seemed annoyed by this announcement, as if such a concern didn't bother him in the slightest. 

"Mister Palmer." The words were delivered with a steady, diplomatic tone, however the gray-eyed gaze that the president fixed Palmer with was anything but kind. "I really hope that you do not expect me to ask Heidegger to deploy the MPs, SOLDIERs, and Turks in order to stock up on lard, which I do believe you are the only person to use in any quantity. If I recall, the kitchen itself uses very little for cooking anymore, choosing somewhat healthier alternatives than just frying everything in fat. Since it is something that the cooks do use, I'm sure there will be more coming in eventually. You'll just have to wait a day or so; I'm sure you'll manage."

Palmer's face looked somewhat like a plum, so enraged and flabbergasted was he. He merely nodded to the president, turning away back downstairs, using every ounce of his willpower to keep from crying. He most certainly could not manage without lard for a whole day! And what if it took longer than a day to arrive? This would not do at all. The kitchen needed more lard now, and no one could see the urgency but Palmer himself. Clearly, it was up to him and him alone to restock the kitchen. It was bold, it was daring, and it made Palmer feel like a little bit of a hero. He self-consciously adjusted his brown pinstripe suit as he lumbered downstairs – it was fortunate that going down was so much easier than climbing up – and held himself erect.

He stepped onto the elevator, pressing the button for the bottom floor. Surely there was some store down in the city that could fulfill his needs. And as the elevator descended, he was rather annoyed to find it stop, allowing Reeve from Urban Development to enter. There was something about Reeve that annoyed him, but he couldn't quite put his pudgy finger on it. The beard was a bit annoying, but passable; the laughable orange tie that the man was so fond of was actually quite pleasant, and Palmer secretly wished he could pull off an orange tie; Reeve had a decent enough personality: he was aggressive and forward-thinking without having lost his sense of compassion, and that was actually rather annoying, but not what bothered Palmer.

Reeve was looking through a folder, nodding to himself. He smiled amicably at Palmer, "Hi, Herb. Those increases in funding we all got sure are making work smoother, aren't they?" Reeve was of course referring to the matter covered in yesterday's board meeting: an increase in funding for all departments, and this time the space program was included. Palmer was allotted an extra 1000 gil. The science department had the biggest increase, and Heidegger's department of peacekeeping was also treated generously. Scarlet and Reeve both found themselves with about an eight per cent increase in funding, for which they were very grateful, and Palmer had seen only a measly thousand gil increase. It became clear what he hated about Reeve; a frivolous department such as urban development had a far bigger budget than the much more important space program.

Palmer's eyes narrowed as he bobbed a bit. "I'm afraid we're still lacking in funds in my department."

Reeve's smile never faltered. The bastard. "I'm sorry to hear that. I forgot that you had only had a small increase this fiscal year. I'm sure the president won't overlook the space program in his next rebudgeting efforts." The worst part was the man seemed to be completely genuine in his statement. But Palmer could see through the lies, could see the way Reeve was secretly gloating, trying to hide his smugness behind a charismatic smile. Oh yes, Palmer knew what bothered him about Reeve.

Fortunately, the infuriating coworker got off only a few floors later, and Palmer enjoyed a private elevator ride down to the first floor. He stepped off the elevator, made his way out the front door, paused, made a U-turn and waddled back inside. He stopped to ask the receptionist where the nearest grocery was, asked her to draw a little map, then left the building again. He walked down the street, into sector seven, looking around at all the tall buildings. It was strange, how little you noticed about a city when you constantly drove even short distances.

That thought made him realize he was out of breath, sweating, and his feet hurt. He took a detour into a restaurant, sitting down in the waiting room to catch his breath. It was no wonder he drove everywhere, really. Everything was so far apart from everything else in this blasted city; it was a wonder people without cars could even survive. Palmer briefly wondered how the people below the plates did survive, in their nearly carless world, where most citizens had to walk everywhere, but even as the thought entered his mind, Palmer realized he didn't care and dismissed the thought entirely.

After a short fifteen minute pause and a few iced beverages to cool off, Palmer continued his journey, following the little map that the receptionist gave him. Let's see, a left here, a right immediately after what must be a stop sign, continue straight for a bit, another pause for breath, and then after the intersection, the grocery should be on the right.

Well, maybe it's on the left.

Okay, clearly the grocery store is not here. He looked down at the map again, heart sinking into his stomach. A bookstore was supposed to be across the street, and he was supposed to be able to see a love hotel billboard. He looked around him. There was an electronics store, a small deli, two coffee shops – although technically, they were the same coffee shop, just two different stores – an ice cream parlor, clothing stores, but no bookstore, no grocery store, and ... well, there was a love hotel's billboard. But honestly, that was a poor landmark as those were on every corner.

Palmer sighed, tasting the bitter taste of defeat. Or perhaps exhaustion. He'd walked an awfully long distance. He vaguely wondered why he hadn't driven, particularly if he was going to be bringing lard back with him. Well, he could just make the store deliver the tubs of lard themselves. The customer should not be expected to actually transport their large purchases themselves, after all. That would just be poor customer service.

Although this situation seemed hopeless. He would have to backtrack. Perhaps he'd go all the way back to Shinra headquarters and take his car. Yes, that would be nice. He would head back and get his car. Just as soon as he had some ice cream.

When he came outside again after finishing his triple-scoop ice cream cone, Palmer looked left and right and could not quite remember which direction he had come from, so guessed randomly and only hoped he was not lost.

* * *

From an alleyway, two thugs looked after the fat man in the ridiculous brown suit. Yes, this would be an easy mark; the man looked rich too. And quietly, they slipped in behind Palmer.

It was only a matter of moments before the thugs subdued the Shinra executive, and as they rifled through his wallet and realized exactly who they had just laid out, saw a great deal of potential in terms of ransom. They began to drag him back into the alleyway and towards their hideout. They had to stop after a few moments to catch their breath, and one of the thugs, the smarter of the two, pulled out his cell phone to call in some reinforcements. Eventually, the whole gang arrived and rolled Palmer into the alleyway behind one of the coffee shops, dreaming of the riches they could amass holding a Shinra VIP for ransom.

((Author's note: BWAHA! I decided to write a Palmer fic just because I'm twisted, and I then decided it needed to become long and complicated and eventually involve all the Shinra execs. Sorry that this chapter was pretty boring, but hopefully it set the stage for what is to come. Muhaha!))


	2. Reeve's Rescue Mission

The Heroic Misadventures of the Shinra Executive Board Members

Chapter Two: Reeve's Rescue Mission

"We have the fat man.  
You can have Palmer back if you send 30,000 gil to:  
1495 46th St.  
You have two days."

The receptionist stared at the paper that had appeared on her desk, and was a little frightened, never having been the recipient of a ransom notice before. She wasn't exactly sure what proper procedure for this was, however she assumed that this was Heidegger's responsibility. This was the sort of job that the department of peacekeeping handled, wasn't it? Sighing, she considered sending a fax of the paper to Heidegger, but remembered his unique way of dealing with paperwork: the insufferable horse of a man would merely shuffle papers around his desk until they became old and obsolete enough to be thrown away. A fax would surely just be ignored.

A phone call would never get through, as she also knew that the man kept his phone off the hook on the assumption that if it were really an emergency, he would be able to smell the smoke or someone would be running into his office to inform him about it. Therefore, a phone call was also out of the question.

That left e-mail. And so, she tried to e-mail the head of the peacekeeping and military division of Shinra, titling the subject line "URGENT: Palmer being held for ransom." She sent a brief note describing the paper she had received. After sending the message, she decided that it was better safe than sorry and had a secretary copy the ransom note and take a hard copy up to Heidegger's office.

Now, Ralf Heidegger hated work, but he loved creating the illusion that he was very busy and very productive. Part of this illusion was maintained by the way he cycled papers through his desk and eventually into the trash bin; another part of this illusion was to keep his e-mail inbox empty. And Heidegger hated e-mail.

So when a little window popped up on his computer screen declaring that he had a new e-mail message, he laughed, "GYAHAHAA," and mashed the delete button on his keyboard a bunch of times because once is never enough.

It was about this time that Rose Scarlet realized that in order to implement her plan to equip satellites with cannons in order to annihilate Shinra's opponents from space, she would need to get in touch with Palmer. However, she was having trouble locating the man, even though she had looked in all the usual places: he was not in his office, in either of the cafeterias, in a vending area, and he wasn't even hiding being a pillar in the president's office in one of his foolish attempts to eavesdrop on the president.

Perhaps her peers knew where to find him. First, she tried Heidegger, but he neither knew nor cared, although he did notice an e-mail message popping up on-screen while she was there and slammed his fist on the delete button a few time. Scarlet sighed and shook her head, trying the head of the science department next.

Scarlet never cared much for Akio Hojo, finding the man to be somewhat obsessed with his work to the point of creepiness, and she entered the lab with a certain wariness, unsure if she would be attacked by some sort of vicious escaped lab animal. Instead, she was greeted by one of Hojo's lab assistants who lead her to the department head promptly. "Hojo," the head of the weapons manufacturing department began, her voice dripping with impatience. "I need to find Palmer. I don't suppose you've seen him?"

Hojo looked up wearily from the notes he was taking on his current specimen – Scarlet wasn't quite sure what the current specimen was, just that she hoped she never met anything with that many tentacles in a dark alley at night – and frowned at the woman, his facial features becoming severe. "No, I have no idea where he is." He hesitated a moment before his shoulders started to shake from amused giggles. "Why don't you stay a while though, Miss Scarlet? I've got some experiments I'd like to try with F1346 here."

But the woman was already gone.

Richard Reeve looked up from some blueprints as Scarlet entered his office and he frowned a bit, his stomach turning as he saw the ugly look on her painted face. Scarlet in a good mood was difficult enough to handle, but clearly Scarlet was not in a good mood. "Can I help you Rose?" he asked, keeping his tone light and hoping he didn't look terrified.

He did look terrified, but that lightened Scarlet's mood, and she almost laughed at him, his orange tie, his goofy beard and his worried expression. But annoyance won out over amusement and she walked to his desk, heels clicking against the paneled wood floor. She leaned forward a bit over his desk, giving him a nice view and tapped her manicured nails against his desk. "I need Palmer, Reeve. No one's been able to help me, but I'm sure that _you_ can."

This was bad; if Scarlet was trying to use her feminine wiles on Reeve, he knew he was in serious trouble if he couldn't deliver what she wanted. And right now, she wanted the rather large head of the space exploration program, a person whose whereabouts Reeve could not begin to fathom. He swallowed a bit, finding himself staring into her breasts. "I'm not really sure where he is," he admitted a bit weakly. "I saw him a few hours ago in the elevator, though. He was headed down to the lobby, I think. Maybe he went home early."

"Home early? Why on earth would Palmer do that?"

Reeve blinked. Why wouldn't he go home early seemed like a better question, but he thought about it for a while and realized that Palmer was paranoid enough to believe that if he went home early, he would miss out on an opportunity to get more funding for his department. The man never took a sick day for the same reason. Scarlet was right; Palmer was not likely to head home early. "Well, he did seem upset about something," the head of urban development offered, although he knew that he was probably the cause of Palmer's less than perfect mood, having brought up the issue of departmental gil allowances. "Although I can't imagine what upset him."

Scarlet pursed perfectly crimson lips in thought. She was annoyed and wanted her intergalactic artillery as soon as possible. And waiting for Palmer to come back from some stroll that he randomly decided to take was too much waiting for her. "Well, then, Richie, since you were the last one to see him, you are the most likely to be able to find him. I'll be waiting in my office for him, so whenever you do manage to bring him back to the office, tell him to see me."

The engineer blinked a bit as Scarlet sauntered out of his office, dumbfounded. She expected him to find Palmer and fetch him back to talk to her? What was he, a dog? He shook his head, bending over to continue his work. Scarlet could just wait indefinitely then. He'd just laugh when she stormed back into his office and glared at him with those crystal blue eyes of hers, slap him across the face with that perfectly manicured hand...

He sighed, pushing himself up from his desk. Who was he kidding? He'd been on the wrong side of one of Scarlet's slaps before and never wanted to repeat that experience. He was duly cowed, and he'd do his best to find Palmer. It wasn't as if the President was likely to approve his projected building plans for Sector Eight anyway. He locked his office door behind him and headed for the elevators, resisting the urge to hang his head in shame. He really did feel like a fool, running errands for Scarlet out of fear of a slap.

Upon arrival in the downstairs lobby, Reeve asked the receptionist if she knew where Palmer had headed off to. The receptionist frowned, and wondered if this was in relation to the ransom note, but as she could only assume that Heidegger had everything under control, she simply answered Reeve's question. "I think he was looking for a food store. I gave him directions to the nearest Huge Chocobo grocery store, but..."

"But?" He quirked an eyebrow at her.

"Well, the directions I gave were from the rear entrance. He left through the front. I'm not sure if he just ignored my directions or what. He didn't even head down to the garage for his car, either."

Reeve frowned, figuring this was a case of Palmer getting himself lost. He asked the receptionist to repeat the directions, trying to picture in his mind where those directions would lead if one was leaving out the main entrance of the Shinra, Inc. building. He did know the layout of Midgar quite well, having been a pivotal player in the design and upkeep of the city. "That would put him out by Rick's Ice Cream shop and those two Asteroidgils coffee houses that are right next to each other, wouldn't it?" The receptionist merely shrugged at him, not really having any idea what he was talking about.

With another sigh, Reeve thanked the receptionist and turned to walk out of the building, headed to Rick's Ice Cream shop, hoping beyond all hope that Palmer would have gotten tired from his walk and rather than wander the city aimlessly stop to eat some ice cream. Although the space man had left hours ago, Reeve still held on to the vague hope that Palmer would be filling himself up with frozen treats by the time he arrived.

What Reeve didn't expect upon his arrival was being clubbed in the back of the head by two thugs.

The muggers looked down at the man they had just laid flat and nodded approvingly. This one looked rich, too, and with the payout for the ransom for the fat man which was surely on its way, they'd be set for life. Dragging Reeve's prone form into a side alleyway, the thug leader pulled Reeve's wallet from his pocket rifling through it. "Damn! It's another Shinra VIP. We just got ourselves another hostage to ransom off!"

Oh yes, this seemed like a very lucky day for the thugs.

((Chapter two! Poor Reeve. A note on the names: Since everyone but Scarlet seems to be referred to as their last names, I figured it only made sense that Scarlet was also being referred to by her last name. So I gave her a first name. Yeah, it's Rose. She had awful parents. Poor Palmer wasn't in this chapter, but rest assured, the next (and possibly final) chapter will have our brave hero in it!))


	3. Scarlet's Search and Heidegger's Heroics

The Heroic Misadventures of the Shinra Executive Board Members

Chapter 3: Scarlet's Search and Heidegger's Heroics

A new email message had popped up on Heidegger's screen sometime in the past few hours when Heidegger had been away from his desk, and he glared at it for long moments. It was something concerning Reeve and Palmer apparently, and the title of the email labeled it as urgent. The man continued to glare at the message, wondering why, if it was so important, Palmer and Reeve wouldn't just stop in to talk to him personally.

He picked up his phone and dialed, calling the leader of the Turks in to see him. Tseng arrived quickly and silently, of course, and stood at attention, waiting for his orders with an expressionless face. "What did you need, sir?"

Heidegger frowned at the man in front of him thoughtfully. "Are Reno and Rude here, or are they out on a mission right now?"

"Reno is in the hospital again, if you will recall. Rude is currently in Junon."

A nod, and then, "Then I suppose you'll have to do it. I need you to go down to the city and run a bit of an errand."

An errand? That tended to be in-speak for an assassination or theft. Really, anything that should not be legal was oftentimes called an "errand" inside of Shinra, Inc.'s peacekeeping department. "Yes, sir. What is it?"

"I need a large pizza from Little Vinnie's Pizza Parlor, with sausage, pepperoni, and ham. And feel free to pick something up for yourself. But hurry, I'm starving. GYAHAHAA!"

The slightest facial twitch at the corner of Tseng's left eye was the only sign of his annoyance. Years of working under Heidegger taught him to expect horrors like this. "Yes. Sir." The response was strained and thin. He turned on a heel and left Heidegger's office.

Heidegger nodded approvingly after the Turk and then turned back to the matter at hand. Oh, yes. This email about Palmer and Reeve... Let's see...

He pressed the delete button with another "GYAHAHAA" and started up a game of solitaire.

* * *

It had been hours since Scarlet had sent Reeve out to find Palmer and she was becoming impatient, and she now could not get a hold of the engineer either. Why was she surrounded by incompetents? Stalking into the hallway, she sauntered to Heidegger's office, predatory. "Reeve and Palmer. Find them."

Now, the words weren't exactly an order as Scarlet did not outrank Heidegger, but was more of a peer. Nonetheless, when she was peeved, she was a scary sight to behold, and Heidegger had a hard time convincing himself not to be afraid of the woman before him. "GYA?" he asked stupidly.

"Reeve and Palmer are missing. You are the head of peacekeeping. If something happened to them, it is your fault. So you will find them. Understood?"

Heidegger nodded, picked up his phone again and called the general of SOLDIER's office line, figuring that that's what underlings were for. No one picked up; it was seven in the evening after all, and all the sensible employees had already gone home. As Heidegger realized this, he also realized that the guards that were still on duty were probably not expendable enough to send out on a search-and-rescue mission, as that would leave the building unguarded. Well, he would call the Turks.

He dialed Tseng's cell phone number, and when the Wutaiain picked up, he shouted—he was one of those people that believed that whoever was on the other end of the phone was having problems hearing him—into the phone, "Tseng, what are you doing? I need you."  
Tseng, mildly annoyed and waiting in line at Little Vinnie's Pizza Parlor hung up on his boss. He would be up with the pizza soon enough and the tiresome man could very well wait until Tseng returned; after all, no amount of Heidegger's screaming at Tseng would make the cooks go any faster, and the Turk wasn't in the mood to be yelled at. He felt the facial twitch starting up again.

Heidegger stared dumbly at the phone for a few moments, before shrugging. "We must have gotten disconnected. GYAHAHAA."

Scarlet rubbed her temples. "This isn't funny, Ralf." She wanted to scream; no, that was not quite accurate. She wanted to shoot someone, and she had a perfect candidate in mind.

Slowly it dawned on Heidegger that Scarlet was not about to allow him to avoid this responsibility and if no underlings were available to take care of this, that left only Heidegger himself to do it. He pushed himself up from his desk and maneuvered his large body to the door, grabbing his coat. "Well, fine. I'll do it, Rose. But only because you're so pretty. GYAHAHAA."

With a sigh and a rolling of her eyes, Scarlet watched him waddle his way down the hall and into the elevator. Did she really trust him to manage this task by himself? No, she didn't. She walked after him, hurried, but not undignified. "Hold the elevator, Ralf. I'm coming too."

The receptionist in the lobby was surprised and perhaps a bit horrified to see Heidegger exit the elevator and come barreling towards her, but hoped that perhaps he finally read her emails and that he would be rescuing the two missing executives. Heidegger did indeed stop at the front desk, and he asked her which way Palmer or Reeve had gone.

The receptionist blinked. She had sent him the address that the kidnappers had provided twice already by email and twice by fax. Her lips pursed into a frown, but then she suddenly realized that just because there was an address that the kidnappers had given in their ransom note, it did not mean that the hostages were actually being held at that particular address. Surely Heidegger had realized that the address given was just for a meeting place to hand over the money, and she kicked herself for not realizing this before now, and also for doubting the man. Of course he wouldn't be a department head if he were stupid and incompetent.

She began to give him directions, the same ones that she had given to Palmer and Reeve. "Head down into Sector Seven, then turn left at the second stoplight. There'll be a stop sign very soon, and you should turn right th"  
"GYAHAHAA, alright! Thank you!" And Heidegger stormed off, the receptionist staring after him in shock. She had more directions to impart, and also wanted to tell him that she only knows that Reeve followed those directions, that Palmer most likely ignored them completely. But the man was gone.

Scarlet, however, sidled up to the front desk, smiling a smile that made the receptionist nervous. "Draw me a little map, darling, and tell me what else you know. We both know that fool man will need my help to find any destination. KYAHAHAA."

The receptionist blinked again and nodded, pulling out a copy of the latest ransom note, too. "I don't know if you saw these, Miss Scarlet, but we did receive a ransom note both for Palmer and Reeve. I forwarded them both to Heidegger, though, so he should already have the address given here." She pushed the ransom note forward towards Scarlet, then busied herself writing down the directions – she didn't draw a map as she wasn't familiar with Sector Seven very well, and had intended the directions for Sector Two instead. She explained all this to Scarlet, repeated what Reeve had speculated as well. Scarlet took all of this in, gave a curt nod which the receptionist assumed was a nonverbal thank you, and then the executive turned and slunk out the front door after Heidegger.

Even in her stilettos, she caught up to the head of the peacekeeping department with little problem. He had worn himself out and was pausing for breath on a street corner, whereas in Scarlet's slower pace and higher fitness level besides, she managed to endure where her cohort could not.

"KYAHAHAA," she laughed, "I have an address where we can find them—they've been held for ransom at this place. Or at least, there will be someone waiting for us there." Heidegger stared at her, clearly not grasping all of this. Perhaps it seemed to easy to him, or perhaps he just plain didn't believe her. She shook her head, rubbing her temples again, wondering how anyone could stand working with Heidegger for any length of time. "In any event, we have the address. Let's just take a damn cab."

* * *

Back at the thug's base, Palmer was rocking himself back and forth, doing his best to hide his fear and humiliation. He had been captured by thugs! Not only was that embarrassing in and of itself, but it also waylaid him from his lard-gathering quest. Also, it had literally been hours since he ate, and he was hungry. Being held for ransom was quite possibly the worst torture that anyone could inflict. And he had his hands tied behind his back, too, which was quite uncomfortable! How come Reeve was allowed to use his hands?

Reeve's excuse was that he was currently involved in a very unbalanced game of poker with their two captors. He had, upon waking up, decided that this place beat the office anyway and wanted to make the most of his situation, so he slipped into his native hick accent and asked the thugs if they'd be interested in a game of cards.

And so they unbound his hands (after all, Reeve had an engineer's build so was deemed to be essentially harmless, and besides, the thugs liked cards) and let him play. And he was winning. Not every hand, of course, but he took most of the big pots. He knew how to play and had uncanny luck. Normally this would have annoyed the thugs enough that they would have quit hours ago, but in this case, they calmed themselves with the fact that they could eventually just steal back all the gil that he won from them anyway. So they continued to play and continued to lose.

Palmer whimpered a bit, hoping for attention from his coworker, hoping for sympathy or even an invitation to the game, but everyone ignored him: they were intent on their game.

So intent were they, in fact, that the two captors were caught completely off-guard when Scarlet and Heidegger burst through the door! Although, really, they had no one to blame but themselves as they had used their actual address on the ransom note. But thugs were rarely known for their smarts, and so this did not detract from their bad-ass image at all.

Heidegger's eyes landed first on the poker game, the two thugs staring up at him, not realizing that they were holding their hands at such an angle that Reeve could see the cards. Reeve was taking full advantage of this, and immediately folded. He did eventually realize though that perhaps this meant rescue, so he shot a hopeful and helpless look to Heidegger and Scarlet an unspoken plea for help.

Heidegger, however, was oblivious and merely laughed. "GYAHAHAA. You've just been playing poker this whole time? Deal me in, I want to play too!" This left Scarlet, Reeve, Palmer and the thugs dumbfounded and confused, but the one thug, the leader-thug, who was dealing the cards did deal Heidegger a hand even though he was wondering what the hell was going on. Reeve seemed to be developing an angry twitch, rather like the one Tseng had. Heidegger thought that was odd.

Scarlet recovered her senses and ignored the poker players completely, sauntering over to Palmer and untying him. She had every intention of leaving Heidegger and Reeve here for their idiocy, but Palmer she needed for her space cannons, so she had to rescue him.

Freed, Palmer was overjoyed, and with a tear forming in his eye, he gushed, "Oh, thank you Rose!" and he darted for the door. Well, towards the door, anyway. He stopped to hide behind a pillar, planning to eavesdrop from the safety of the pillar on what would happen next.

The thugs blinked at Scarlet, then after a moment's hesitation, grabbed their guns and leaped up, not about to let some broad free their prisoners and lose them all the money that they could gain from Shinra. But Scarlet was prepared and pulled a tiny gun from between her breasts, in one fluid movement drawing, cocking, and firing. She laughed as he hit the floor. And laughed harder when Reeve threw up when blood splattered all over the cards. Now this little adventure was becoming fun.

The fallen thug's companion stared dumbly, both shocked and awed that this woman had kept a gun squirreled away in her cleavage. His hesitation was all she needed though, as she sobered up from laughing and launched herself into the other thug, shoulder meeting his chest as she decked him, knocking him to the floor. She brought her stiletto heel down onto his windpipe, applying just enough pressure to scare him. "Are there any more of you hiding?"

The thug, however, now had a very nice view of her panties – black! and developed a nosebleed which further upset Scarlet, so she lifted her leg and brought the point of her heel down hard on the thug's windpipe. "Guess not. Let's go."

Reeve was staring at the carnage, pale and shaken and even more terrified of Scarlet than he ever had been before. Heidegger laughed a bit, although he was a bit disappointed that he didn't really get the change to play poker. Palmer came out of hiding and blubbered something about getting lard, and this brought everyone's attention to him. Then Heidegger and Reeve looked meekly to Scarlet, awaiting her decision, apparently having decided that her word was law and definitely having decided they did not want to be on her bad side.

Scarlet could have screamed. "Fine. We'll get your stupid lard. The taxi's still waiting for us outside, we'll go to one of those wholesale warehouse places where you can buy in bulk and you can get your goddammed lard and you can approve my glorious cannons, KYAHAHAA."

Palmer nodded agreeably. He had no idea what she was talking about with the cannons, of course, but if it meant getting lard, he was all for it. "And.. could we stop for something to eat?" That comment awarded him with many flat stares, and he figured that was a no. He sighed heavily. "Well, let's get going, then."

* * *

Back in the Shinra building, Tseng found Heidegger's office empty and his coat gone. It figured. Annoyed, and able to feel the vein throbbing in his forehead, he set the greasy pizza box down on Heidegger's papers, contented in the thought that the grease would seep through the bottom of the box and ruin whatever Heidegger was working on – if he was even actually working on anything.

* * *

Together the four Shinra executive board members had managed to buy a tub of lard, making the head of the peacekeeping department carry it back to headquarters (it was heavy enough that he stopped laughing, which was definitely an added bonus). They also had needed to buy some pills for the head of the urban development department, as he never seemed to recover from Scarlet's little spree. But the returned to the Shinra building successful and full of pride. Well, perhaps more full of annoyance. But Palmer was proud and he projected that feeling onto the others.

Just as they reached the doors, a delivery truck pulled away, and Scarlet pointed out angrily that that delivery truck was the food delivery truck which meant that now the Shinra kitchens were surely restocked on lard, and that Palmer's whole quest was in vain. Palmer, however, felt this was even better for him, as now there was more lard to go around and even extra lard for backup in case something horrible like a lard shortage were to occur again.

Finally, they all got back inside, delivered the extra lard to the larders, and Palmer, before Scarlet could corner him to talk about her new project, dashed to the cafeteria that was open after-hours to order a lard and ham sandwich. Scarlet, ready to shoot the fat man, stormed off after him, determined to make him listen and sign the appropriate dotted lines.

This left a mildly sick but recovering Reeve and a disgruntled Heidegger. Reeve turned to the other man, shrugging a bit. "You up for a game of cards?"

Heidegger ignored him and returned to his office, sitting at his desk, blinking at the pizza box, then throwing away the grease-stained papers under the box. He didn't really know what the papers were, but he figure they were unimportant. And anyway, they were ruined now. He did write a brief note to have his coworkers killed by the Turks, but it also fell victim to his unfortunate system of filing, and so it was never carried out. But on the bright side, a cold meat-lover's pizza was better than being hungry. Admittedly, it wasn't that much better, but at least it was food, and it was greasy, and it had sausage.

So really, as our story comes to a close, no one was living happily ever after, although they were all living. Our hero found himself the happiest one of the bunch. While he had nearly gotten himself killed, he had already forgotten the day's ordeal eating a sandwich lavishly spread with lard.

The End.

((Whew, long last chapter. Turned more into a Scarlet story by the end! I hope you enjoyed reading it! I rather enjoyed writing it, so I'm toying with the idea to do more random stories about the Shinra folks. Oh, and disclaimer: Everything here is the intellectual property of Square-Enix, and not of my creation. The things that do not belong to Square-Enix are poor parodies of other companis. My apologies to Giant Eagle and Starbucks.))


End file.
